


There's No Boning in the Bone Pit

by draco_illius_noctis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drinking, Hawke's bad dick jokes, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Purple Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 09:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15215768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draco_illius_noctis/pseuds/draco_illius_noctis
Summary: Hawke and Anders have been dancing around their feelings for...well, they've kind of lost track how long. On a trip to the Bone Pit, Hawke finally works up the courage to invite Anders to his place that night. Anders arrives...but Hawke has locked him out. Hawke is inside waiting, but thinks Anders is a no-show. Someday, they're going to get this right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt: Leandra comes home for the night and locks the door behind her. Hawke, pacing in their room, doesn’t notice. Anders shows up to find a locked door, and Hawke falls asleep waiting for him. Both think the other rejected them. Awkwardness ensues until the truth eventually comes out.

“Ah, the Bone Pit. My favorite place in the world.”

Hawke stood with his hands on his hips, grinning as he looked over the rocky, scorched earth in front of him. A fetid smell came from the mouth of the caves nearby, no doubt a remnant from their last bloody visit. Bones and bits of charred grass littered the area, adding to the wholly unpleasant experience.

A contented sigh escaped Hawke’s lips nonetheless, earning an eye roll from the elf behind him.

“This place is foul, Hawke,” Fenris replied, scrunching his nose. “Why do you insist on bringing us here? Repeatedly.”

“It’s not _foul_ ,” Hawke gasped, shooting him a wounded glance. “It just needs some…fixing up. A man’s touch.”

“It _had_ a man’s touch,” Fenris retorted. “ _Your_ touch. You made it even more disgusting than it was before.”

“You never let me have nice things, Fenris,” Hawke pouted, coming over to stand next to his friend. “I just want to have _one_ little dragon mine and—”

“ _No more dragons_.”

“Are we talking about Hawke’s _dragon_?” Isabela asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively as she sidled up to the pair. “Hawkey, I’ve always wondered: is it more of a ‘high dragon’ or a ‘dragonling?’”

“Closer to an archdemon, if you know what I mean,” Hawke grinned, wiggling his eyebrows as Isabela cackled.

“That’s not even a compliment,” Fenris objected. “You have a tainted dick? You want people terrified of it?”

A choking noise came from behind them, cutting off any reply Hawke might have had. The trio whirled around to see Anders – whom they had forgotten about - face bright red and shuffling awkwardly a few feet away. His eyes darted around the area, refusing to make eye contact with their fearless leader.

“See?” Fenris pointed. “You’ve already scared the mage.”

“I’ll have to ask Varric for a better descriptor,” Hawke replied forlornly.

“Don’t tell me we scandalized you, sweet thing,” Isabela cooed, coming over to link one of her arms through Anders’. “From what I remember, it takes more than a little dick talk to bring you to your knees.”

Anders let out a deep sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as Bela leaned over conspiratorially.

“Although…I bet if Hawke played his cards right you might be on your knees soon enough,” she whispered, loud enough that the others could hear.

“ _Isabela!”_ Anders hissed, shaking his arm free.

“Well!” Hawke interrupted, clapping his hands together in front of him. “As much as I’m enjoying this animated conversation about my genitals, it’s not why I brought you all up here today.”

Isabela huffed, pouting, while Fenris and Anders both sagged with relief. Even if Anders was still a rosy shade of pink.

Hawke ushered them into one of the larger of the caves, claiming word had gotten back to him that a group of bandits was using it as a hideout.

“Nobody asks permission anymore,” Hawke lamented, shaking his head. “It’s so rude.”

“I’m sure you would have been very accommodating, Hawke,” Anders replied dryly.

“I hear Anders can be _very_ accommod— _ow!_ ” Bela yelped as a small jolt of lightning zapped her in her side. Anders looked innocently away as Bela shot him a glare.

“I’m just trying to help,” she whispered, this time low enough that only she and Anders could hear. “Stop fighting it. You know you want to get in his pants. Or get him out of them.”

“Just stop,” Anders hissed back. “You don’t know anything. Hawke doesn’t even like me like that. I think he’s more into Fenris.”

They paused to look over at the other pair right as Hawke dropped a handful of spiderwebs on an unsuspecting Fenris’ head, then doubled over laughing as Fenris cursed and tried to pick them out.

“He’s really a bit of an ass, isn’t he?” Anders remarked after a moment, Isabela humming in agreement. She turned to him with a saucy grin, giving him a quick pinch on his backside.

“I bet he has a nice one, though,” she commented. “If you could just get your head out of _yours_ and ask the poor fool on a date I’m sure you could find out for sure. Just be sure to take notes.”

“Maker, Bela, none of that is going to happen!” Anders groaned, starting to walk forward to join the others. “Hawke has no feelings for me, so I’m not going to make a fool out of myself by approaching him first. Let’s all just…be happy with the way things are.”

“I am going to _throw up_ if I have to watch the two of you make eyes at each other over the campfire tonight, I just want you to know,” Bela replied, poking him in the face as she passed. “It won’t be pretty.”

“You’re beautiful no matter what you do, Bela!” Anders called after her with a chuckle. Hawke stopped tormenting Fenris to turn and stare at Anders, mouth open slightly. Anders could feel the blush return to his cheeks and quickly looked away, but not before he saw the brief frown upon the larger man’s face.

They came upon the bandits a short while later; more than they expected, but not more than they could handle. Hawke’s mood was noticeably dimmer, lacking the usual barrage of bad jokes as they dispatched of the group with ruthless efficiency. Anders felt a twinge in his stomach, simultaneously wondering if he had anything to do with the man’s mood or if he could possibly _fix_ it.

Isabela and Fenris noticed it as well, Fenris rolling his eyes as Hawke dramatically jabbed one of the bandits with the sharp end of his staff. Isabela joined suit when she saw how Hawke glanced over to an unobservant Anders for his approval, face dropping when he realized the mage was busy with his own fight.

“Can we lock them in here somehow?” Isabela asked Fenris. “Let them get this out of their system?”

Fenris snorted, wiping some blood off his arm. “Not likely.”

The fight was over relatively quickly and the group decided to rest for a bit before heading back to Kirkwall. Anders examined them all, finding only superficial wounds and nothing that required more than a healing draught.

Hawke flashed Anders a grin as the mage made his way over, enjoying how the man flushed slightly before tentatively returning his smile.

 _This is it_ , Hawke thought. _Harness your dick. Just bloody_ ask _him_.

“Save the best for last, eh?”

Anders scoffed, shaking his head as looked him over.

“I just assumed if anyone would require my attention, it would be you.”

“You can have my undivided attention whenever you want,” Hawke murmured, leaning in closer. “Tonight, maybe?”

“I…um…” Anders sputtered, drawing back in surprise. “I thought…”

They both glanced over to where Isabela and Fenris were lounging in front of a small fire, chatting amongst themselves as they split some food. Hawke’s face immediately clouded over.

“Unless you’re otherwise occupied,” he grumbled, turning away.

“I’m not.” Anders raised an eyebrow. “I thought _you_ might be.”

Hawke furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment before finally shaking his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I’ll actually be all alone tonight. Bodahn and Sandal have the night off and my mother has some party she’s going to.”

He looked up, happy – and, Anders thought, hopeful – grin returning.

“So, it could be just me and you. Maybe a drink or two at my place? We can talk about mage rights and all that good stuff.”

Anders perked up at the words, feeling Justice’s approval weaving through him, and he found himself nodding before he could think about it too much.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Say, eight o’clock?”

“Perfect! I’ll leave the door unlocked, just come in and make yourself comfortable.” Hawke grinned again, jumping up and grabbing his staff, which he used to prod Fenris in the back, causing the elf to lurch forward.

“Come on, you two, change of plans. We need to get back to Kirkwall immediately,” he called cheerily as he made his way to the exit. “I have _big_ plans tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big THANK YOU to phoenixquest for graciously giving me this prompt <3 I haven't been able to write anything for months, so I asked for something fresh to hopefully kickstart my brain back into gear, and I came up with this! The fic is almost finished, I have maybe one more chapter left to write, so expect regular updates. For once. I swear. 
> 
> Also, because I can't stop screaming about her, I GOT A PUPPY. [Her name is Circe](https://draco-illius-noctis.tumblr.com/post/175476585100/draco-illius-noctis-holy-crap-im-still-alive) and she is the light of my life. She's been keeping me busy these last 2 months, but now that work has slowed down and I'm finally done my Master's, things have settled down and I can get back in a writing groove again. PRAY FOR ME.
> 
> Anyway, comments/kudos/etc. are always welcome and greatly appreciated <3 I hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DATE NIGHT. Kinda.

Hawke spent the better half of the evening bathing and sorting through his clothes, trying to find something that screamed “undress me, Anders!” while still remaining respectable. As respectable as he believed Anders saw him, at least.

Which…now that he thought about it, Anders probably wouldn’t be surprised to find him with just a dish towel draped over his nether regions.

He finally settled on his housecoat and a loose pair of trousers, hoping he came off as casual and relaxed in order to put the other man at ease. While the mage had been to his estate before, this would be the first time they were there alone together. He just wanted them both to be comfortable.

But even still…Hawke wanted to make an entrance. Something grand that would draw Anders’ attention to him and only him. Something that would erase any doubts that he had made the right decision to come there that night.

With only a few minutes to eight remaining, he rushed downstairs, poking at the roaring fire in the fireplace before pouring two goblets of wine. One he left on the table where Anders was sure to see it, and he went so far as to rearrange the chairs so that one was clearly meant for the man to relax in once he arrived. The other glass of wine he brought back upstairs to his room, leaving the door slightly cracked open so he could hear the front door close.

He would wait until Anders was inside, give him a few minutes to settle in his seat, perhaps take a few sips of wine while he enjoyed the comfort of the estate, and then Hawke would make his grand entrance at the top of the stairs, welcoming his guest as he descended and they began their night of romance.

Probably.

He hoped Anders wasn’t _actually_ expecting them to spend the evening talking about mage rights, as important a topic as it was.

Hawke heard the clock chime eight times and he took a deep breath, risking a peek out of his door to see if the mage had arrived. Seeing no one, he moved to the mirror to examine himself one last time.

“I can probably loosen this a bit,” he muttered, untying the belt that held his robe closed. After a few attempts, he retied it, making sure it showed a hint of his chest hair. Not Varric-levels of display, but enough. Anders had seen more, of course, when he’d mended Hawke after battles, but there was something much more intimate about showing off his body in his own home. He just hoped Anders agreed.

Hawke paced across his room, unable to control the anxiousness and excitement he felt for _finally_ working up the courage to lay his feelings out. He had been trying so hard not to let his feelings for the mage get in the way of their lives, unsure whether Anders would even allow such a relationship, but it had become too much. Hearing him call Isabela beautiful earlier in the day had finally made something click in his mind: if he didn’t make his feelings known, someone else would.

He glanced at the small clock in his room, noticing with a frown that it was now twenty minutes past eight. Surely, he would have heard Anders if he arrived, whether it be the door closing or the man calling out to him. Hawke made his way to his door, peaking out again only to see the chair and wine sitting exactly where he left them.

With a sigh, he descended the stairs once more, looking around the bottom floor rooms just in case Anders took a detour while he waited. The other rooms were also untouched, and Hawke felt his stomach begin to sink.

He had been stood up.

Hawke could feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment, stomach churning as he wondered how he could be so _stupid_ to think the mage returned his feelings. He thought back to their conversation, picking over every word and facial expression trying to determine whether Anders was just being polite or if he had any intention of ever taking him up on his offer. He _thought_ the man seemed sincere, but perhaps he was just delirious from the battle.

He walked to the front door anyway, peering through the peephole just in case the mage was still waiting outside. The darkness that greeted him removed any lingering hope that he might be wrong.

He picked up the leftover glass of wine on his way back into the sitting room, draining it in a few quick gulps before grabbing the bottle and trudging back to his room. Beefcake was lying outside of his door, slowly wagging his tail as Garrett approached.

“Come on, boy,” he mumbled, shooing the dog inside. “Guess it’s just you, me, and this bottle tonight instead.”

* * *

As one door clicked quietly shut, another just as silently opened.

Leandra Hawke pulled her dressing gown a little tighter, wishing some of the heat from the downstairs fire had drifted up to the second floor. The fire was still going, she noticed, but the room was still empty. There was also no sign of her son, so she assumed he had turned in for the night. Or had gone out.

With a sigh, she descended the stairs. Her son could be irresponsible at the best of times, which is why she was unsurprised when she arrived home early to an unlocked front door. Didn’t he know just anyone could walk in and rob them blind? Or worse?

Better to check and make sure it was still tightly locked before she went to bed, at least for her own peace of mind.  

* * *

_30 minutes earlier…_

* * *

Anders nervously adjusted his collar as he quietly made his way through Hightown. Hawke had agreed to eight o’clock, and although he was sure the other man wouldn’t mind if he was early, he didn’t want to just barge in and make himself at home. He felt awkward enough whenever he visited, the beautiful estate much more than he was used to living in the sewers. Anywhere was, really.

He just couldn’t believe his luck. All these years spent pining for Hawke, spending day after day in the man’s company while forced to keep his feelings to himself had been torture.

But Hawke, or any relationship, for that matter, was a distraction. Justice was sure to remind him of that fact daily. Numerous times, if he was in the presence of Hawke. But to think that the man might have some semblance of romantic feelings for him was almost more than he could take. And he wasn’t going to pass up what might be his only chance to let him know.

Anders arrived at the Hawke estate only a minute or two before eight, by his (admittedly unsure) estimates, and took another moment to gather himself, smoothing down his feathers and hair.

_This is it_ , he thought. _Please don’t let this be another one of Hawke’s jokes_.

He took one last deep breath and reached out to grab the doorknob…

…only to find it locked.

He went into a panic, trying it again, tugging a little harder to make sure it hadn’t gotten stuck.

_He did say it would be unlocked, right?_ He thought, swallowing the heavy lump in his throat. Justice rumbled within him, confirming that yes, Hawke said the door would be unlocked and he should enter on his own. The spirit’s disapproval was not helping matters.

“Maybe I’m earlier than I thought,” he murmured to himself, taking a step back. “Maybe he hasn’t unlocked it yet.”

He took a few steps back, leaning against one of the pillars as he regulated his breathing. That was it. It had to be. Hawke wouldn’t leave the door open for just anyone to enter, so he must be waiting until exactly eight o’clock.

Confident that that must be the case, Anders walked into the courtyard, looking for a clock. Or at least someone who might have an idea of the time. It might be better to be a few minutes late. Fashionably so. No reason to look as eager as he actually was.

He flagged down a few people before finding one that knew the time, shocked to learn that it was fifteen minutes after eight. He was definitely late, then. He rushed back to the estate and tried the door once more, only to find it still locked. Had he been that late when he arrived? Surely, Hawke wouldn’t have locked the door if Anders was only five minutes behind schedule. He raised his hand, preparing to knock on the door and find out once and for all.

Unless…

Hawke must not have been serious.

He could have kicked himself for how stupid he felt at that moment. Hawke was probably watching from one of the windows, laughing at him. It would be a grand joke, a story he could boisterously tell the group the next time they gathered at The Hanged Man.

“ _He actually believed me!”_ he could picture Hawke shouting as he roared with laughter, the others joining in.

Well, Hawke could tell it without him, he thought, shoving his hands in his pockets as he quickly walked away. It was bad enough listening to the constant derision from Fenris and teasing from Isabela, he didn’t need Hawke poking fun at him, too. He felt the despair welling up in his chest and even Justice was silent for once, perhaps understanding just how much this had meant to Anders. He was sure Justice would chastise him for his rash decision later, and he would endure the lecture, but at this point, he felt like he deserved it.

His clinic was thankfully empty when he arrived, save the handful of cats lingering in the entryway. He scooped one up, nuzzling it gently as the others followed him inside before he shut the doors. Several went to the back of the clinic with him to his own makeshift living area and he couldn’t help but smile as they mewed for more milk. They were the one bright spot in his otherwise dismal day.

He would deal with the Hawke situation later, he thought as he undressed and prepared to sleep. Maybe talk to Varric first, just to get a read on the situation and debate how long he would stay away until things blew over.

The way he was feeling right now, he would be content with not seeing Hawke for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as the timeline here goes...Leandra got home before Hawke set up the wine, etc. in the sitting room. She went right to her rooms. Anders is shit at telling time so even though he thought he was early, he wasn't. Somehow, Hawke is the only one that was actually on schedule. 
> 
> Thanks for the support/comments/etc. so far! <3 I really appreciate every kudos and comment I get. This was sort of a necessary "setting up the plot" chapter, but we'll be back to more fun dialogue and group interactions in the next :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawke's reaction the day after. He handles it well, naturally.

Hawke woke the next morning to a pounding headache and tight chest, like coming out of a nightmare that he couldn’t remember. One look at the bottle lying by his bed, however, made the memories of the night before come flooding back, and with a groan, he flopped back onto his pillow.

_Anders stood me up_ , he thought grimly for what must have been the fiftieth time in the last ten hours. He had hoped that maybe it would sting less in the light of day, but, if possible, it hurt worse. Now he had a clear head and an entire day looming ahead of him. A day he would have to try and fill with avoiding Anders.

The evening would be another story, though. He had already made plans with the gang to meet at The Hanged Man for drinks, as they usually did. He supposed he _could_ plead off and claim he was busy (or sick) and put it off for another day. But, the more he thought about it, the more he decided he should just act like normal. If he showed up and acted like any other day, everyone would be none the wiser. No one would have to know Anders was slowly crushing his heart (in a decidedly un-Fenris-like manner).

Beefcake was waiting by the door, tail wagging happily by the time Hawke finished dressing. The sight brought a smile to his face, and he paused briefly to pet the dog.

“Come on, Beefy-boy,” he cooed. “You want to come help me pick up hot men not named Anders?”

Beefcake tilted his head, giving Hawke a thoroughly confused look.

“I know, I know,” he sighed, running a hand down his face. “Anders is the hottest, I don’t know who I’m kidding. Let’s go see if we can help some people instead, then. Okay?”

Beefcake gave a small bark of assent, following Hawke out the door. He debated checking on his mother as he left, but, considering she wasn’t in her usual spot in the parlor, he assumed she was still sleeping and let her be.

The day went by quickly, despite the certain mage who was never far from his thoughts. He stopped by to pick up Fenris at one point, the pair making a short trek to the docks to investigate rumors of slaver activity.

A few less slavers later, the pair wiped off their hands and decided to call it an evening, heading over to The Hanged Man to wait for the rest of their group.

“I think I could drink my weight in ale,” Hawke bemoaned as they made their way inside.

Fenris snorted. “How is that different from any other night?”

“Ha _ha_ ,” Hawke mocked, even though he was smiling.

It wasn’t until they were actually inside the tavern that his anxiety made a reappearance. Most of the gang was already there, and it took him an extra second or two to school his features into nonchalance. Merrill was animatedly telling a story to Isabela, who was looking back with thinly veiled adoration. Aveline was in the midst of a heated argument – heated on her side, at least – with Varric, who was merely nodding as he took notes, occasionally interjecting a word or two that only served to rile Aveline up all over again.

Fenris ordered a bottle before taking his usual spot next to Isabela, acknowledging the group with a brief nod before settling into his drink. Hawke faltered at the end of the table, looking for the one man he was both dying and dreading to see.

But Anders wasn’t there.

“Planning on joining us, Hawke, or just fidgeting in the corner all night?” Varric called out, eyebrow raised.

“I came here to see my favorite people, didn’t I?” Hawke grinned, making a show of sitting in between Fenris and Varric at the table. Fenris rolled his eyes as he took another drink, but Varric was staring at him with an unreadable expression. Hawke chose to ignore it, signaling for the waitress.

“First round’s on me, everyone,” he announced, still grinning. “I plan on getting soused tonight.”

Isabela let out a whoop while Aveline eyed him disapprovingly. Varric was still staring, although he now had a slight smirk on his face.

“Any reason why, Hawke?” he asked.

“Can’t a man get drunk with his best friends?” Hawke shouted, earning cheers from around the room. He took a deep drink from his tankard, wiping his mouth before muttering.

“At least the ones who bother to show up.”

“What’s that, sweet thing?” Isabela asked.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you, Bela?” Hawke grinned, downing the rest of his ale. “You’re such a good friend.”

Isabela raised an eyebrow in surprise, the others exchanging confused looks, but Hawke paid no mind, raising his hand for a refill.

“We all love you, too, Hawke,” Isabela finally responded, giving him a slightly concerned smile. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel great!” Hawke bellowed, finishing off his next glass in one long drink. He quickly gestured for another. “Fenris is almost done his bottle of wine, why isn’t anyone asking him if _he’s_ okay?”

“Because I’m not raving like a lunatic,” Fenris retorted.

“I’m just having fun,” Hawke scoffed. “You’re all sticks in the mud.” He leaned forward, smiling at Merrill.

“What about you, Merrill?” he asked. “You’re having fun, right?”

“I always have fun when I’m with my friends,” she replied, smiling happily.

“See!” Hawke shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “Merrill’s having fun, so should the rest of you.”

“ _Hawke_ ,” Aveline hissed.

“Don’t start.” Hawke cut her off, finger pointed in the general direction of her face. “I don’t want to hear it from you tonight, _mother_.”

Aveline scowled, looking at Varric for some kind of support, but the dwarf was still only calmly regarding his friend.

“Sure nothing’s bothering you, Hawke?” he asked instead. “Nothing…happen last night?”

“Had a nice night in, Varric, _that’s_ what happened,” Hawke replied, slamming his now-empty glass on the table. “Just me and Beefc—oh shit, where’s Beefcake?”

He stood up quickly, knocking his chair and a glass over in the process. The table erupted in gasps and mingling cries of _Hawke, sit down!_

“He’s right there, Hawke!” Aveline shouted, pointing to the corner Beefcake was quietly lying in, bowl of water in front of him. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight?”

Hawke picked up his chair, murmuring apologies as he sat back down. The waitress brought him over another glass unasked for, but he didn’t drink, seemingly lost in thought.

“Where’s Anders?” Merrill asked, likely just trying to change the conversation.

“Too _good_ to keep his promises to people, I guess,” Hawke spat out, glaring at his glass as he finally took a drink. No one said a word, staring at him in growing discomfort. Fenris and Isabela exchanged a worried glance.

“Anders isn’t joining us tonight,” Varric calmly replied, still eyeing Hawke. “He asked me to tell everyone he was sorry.”

Hawke snorted in derision, mumbling something under his breath no one could understand. Varric stood, gesturing toward the bar.

“Would you join me for a minute, Hawke?”

Hawke begrudgingly followed, unsteady on his feet and he wove his way through the other tables to get to the bar, where he collapsed on the first empty stool he saw. Varric studied him for a few seconds, allowing him to get his bearings back.

“Maybe you should go talk to Anders, Hawke.”

“I’ll talk to him the next time we have a job, no big deal,” he replied, waving the suggestion away. “It’s not like I’m _looking_ to talk to him or anything. It’s just Anders.”

“…Right.” Varric said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Are you mad at him?”

“ _Yes_. He’s mean.”

Varric sighed, signaling for a drink for himself. “And why is he mean, Hawke?”

“He doesn’t like me.”

Varric chuckled, shaking his head as Hawke gave him an indignant look.

“Don’t laugh at me, it’s _true_. He was very rude and I hate his alarmingly handsome face.”

“Hawke,” Varric sighed again, taking a drink. “Please, just go talk. I think you need to clear some things up.”

“The only thing I’m clearing up is the bottom of this glass, right everyone!” Hawke yelled, holding up his somehow full again glass above his head to a roomful of cheers. He vaguely heard Fenris yell “ _that doesn’t even make sense, Hawke”_ somewhere in the background but he ignored it. Fenris never understood anything.

Varric finished his drink, watching as the man drunkenly made his way back to their table, Isabela cheering him on the whole way. He shook his head, wondering if he should send word to Anders that this might take a _little_ longer than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I meant to post this the other day but things got away from me and I didn't get a chance. We have Anders POV coming in the next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you all for your kind comments as I try to get back into the swing of writing again. I know it's not my best work but it's definitely been helpful in getting me into the routine again. So I appreciate it and I hope you enjoy the second half of the fic <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders' version of the next day events

_Earlier that day…_

Anders woke to a set of paws casually kneading his stomach.

“Mr. Pickles, how many times have I told you that my belly does _not_ need tenderizing?” he asked the mewing cat as he picked it up, snuggling it close to his chest. Two more of the cats promptly jumped onto his cot, letting it loudly be known that they were ready for breakfast.

Anders sighed, stretching with a groan before getting up and padding to his makeshift kitchen to refill the saucers and bowls strewn around the area. He debated making himself some breakfast as well, ultimately deciding that the disarray in his stomach wasn’t worth the effort.

The quiet was short-lived, however, loud pounding reverberating through the clinic a few minutes later. The cats all scurried to their hiding places, sure to creep out once the clinic doors were opened for the day, only to return that evening.

Anders splashed some water on his face, straightening his hair as he finished dressing, and prepared for the day.

Luckily – for him, not so much for the residents of Lowtown that visited – his day was busy. Although he was able to keep his mind occupied, he felt his thoughts wandering to Hawke far more than usual…and far more than necessary. Justice was irate, demanding that Anders focus and stop letting his mind drift to the foolish man who spurned their advances.

_My_ advances, Anders reminded him testily. Not that it helped the situation.

It was only after he accidentally mixed a sleeping drought with a potion for an upset stomach that he realized he might need to take a break and pull himself together. While the poor fellow was probably relieved to have a break from his stomach, Anders was pretty sure a nap wasn’t part of the plan.

“I need to call in reinforcements,” he muttered to himself.

“ _WHO_.” Justice boomed. “ _DO NOT SAY THE PIRATE OR THE SINGING ELF.”_

_Will you please stop calling him that?_ Anders fumed. _You don’t know how embarrassed I feel every time I look at him and think ‘Fenris the Singing Elf.’_

“ _I DO KNOW HOW YOU FEEL,_ ” Justice replied. “ _HIS LYRIUM SINGS. I AM NOT WRONG._ ”

“No, you’re never wrong,” Anders grumbled, wrapping up some loose bandages. Justice must have taken his sarcasm seriously because he felt the spirit’s smugness as he quieted down. With the mood Anders was in, he was almost tempted to think something smartass enough to rile him up all over again. But he kept the peace. There were more pressing matters at hand.

He turned to one of the patients still lingering in the clinic, a teenage boy who had escorted his younger brother after daring the boy to eat something from an unmarked barrel. He gestured for the boy to come closer, taking him off to the side in confidence.

“When you leave, can you please get word to Varric Tethras at the Hanged Man? Tell him it’s of the utmost importance that he come see the healer as soon as he is able.” The boy’s eyes widened at the idea of entering the tavern. Anders smiled, pressing a coin into his palm.

“Tell him it has to do with the Champion.”

* * *

Varric strolled into the clinic a couple of impossibly long hours later, looking less-than-pleased. Anders let out a loud sigh of relief, shooing the one remaining patient out of the room before extinguishing his outside lanterns and closing the door.

“This better be good, Blondie,” Varric said, crossing his arms. “I don’t make these trips for just anyone.”

“Has Hawke said anything about me?” Anders blurted out before he could stop himself. Varric didn’t reply, blinking slowly at the other man for a minute. He finally shook his head, letting out a deep sigh.

“Did you really bring me here to ask about Hawke’s love life?”

“…no,” Anders hedged.

“Then is there _another_ reason Hawke would mention you?”

“Listen,” Anders sighed. “I think I may have…misunderstood Hawke’s intentions and now I’m in an awkward situation.”

“His _intentions_ towards you aren’t exactly appropriate for polite company, Blondie.”

Anders opened his mouth to reply, shutting it a moment later as he tried to comprehend what Varric had just said. The dwarf chuckled at his expression, giving him an incredulous look in return.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know?”

“I…that’s um…but that…”Anders stumbled over the words, mussing his hair as he absentmindedly ran a hand through it. He began pacing the floor, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Anders,” Varric said kindly after a moment. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about this?”

Anders nodded, leading them both to a nearby set of chairs.

“Got anything to drink in here?”

Anders gave him an affronted look, frowning.

“This is a _clinic_ , Varric.”

“Right, right,” Varric nodded, pulling a flask from his belt, holding it up for Anders to see. “Good thing I always come prepared.”

Anders let out a small groan, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“ _Anyway_. About Hawke…”

“Why don’t you just tell me what happened, and then I’ll tell you how ridiculous it is,” Varric said. “Because if it involves Hawke, it’s almost guaranteed to be ridiculous.”

Anders launched into the story, explaining the trip to the Bone Pit, Hawke’s invitation, and his arrival at the estate.

“The door was _locked,_ ” he said for the fifth time. “I was a little late, but it’s not like Hawke is mister punctuality. Do you think he forgot?”

Varric hummed thoughtfully, taking another sip of his drink.

“Not if what Isabela had to say has anything to do with it.”

Anders nearly leaped across the table, staring at Varric with wide eyes.

“What did _Isabela_ know about it?”

“Again, not polite conversation, Blondie.”

“Oh, Maker,” Anders groaned, resting his head on the table. “But nothing even _happened_.”

“Sounds like Hawke was planning on a whole lot of something happening.”

“That’s what I don’t understand!” Anders cried, banging his hand on the table. “Why would he go through all that and then stand me up?”

“I think that’s something you need to work out with Hawke,” Varric replied. “Just the two of you, with no intermediaries or gossiping pirates.”

“I don’t know that I’m ready to confront him yet,” Anders admitted, trying to quell Justice stirring at the word “pirate.”

“It wasn’t just some little mistake, you know?” he continued. He bit his lip, gaze lowering to the table once more. “This…this actually meant something to me.”

Varric was silent, letting the words sink in as Anders wrestled with his warring emotions now that they were let loose. Despite Varric’s intimations, he still had a lingering feeling that he had read the situation wrong and Hawke had just set him up for one big joke. How was he supposed to face the man with that kind of accusation?

“Anders…” Varric began, hesitantly. “Why don’t you pull Hawke aside tonight when we’re all together? You can use my place if you want some privacy. Just hear his side of the story.”

Anders shook his head frantically, eyes wide.

“No,” he insisted. “No, I can’t be near him tonight. It’s too soon, I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“The longer you put it off, the more you’re going to dwell on it.”

“No,” Anders repeated. “Tell them something came up, I was sick or busy or…I don’t really care, just tell them I won’t be there tonight.”

“But…”

“Not like anyone will even ask,” Anders grumbled. “Hawke can tell his stupid joke in peace and get it out of his system before I have to face any of them again.”

Varric sighed, shaking his head in resignation.

“If that’s what you want, Blondie,” he said. “You want me to say anything to Hawke?”

Anders shook his head. “He won’t want to hear anything I have to say right now.”

“Not for polite company, got it,” Varric winked.

“ _No_ ,” Anders groaned. “Maker, Varric, thank you for stopping by, but you can go now.”

“Just remember what I said,” Varric replied as Anders walked him to the door. “Just talk to him. Get his side of the story. I’m sure there’s more to it than you think.”

“Thank you, Varric, see you just short of forever,” Anders called, shooing him out the door.

The cats came creeping out as soon as the room was empty once more. Anders scooped one up, not bothering to relight the lanterns. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate anyway.

“So, Mr. Pickles. Shall we find something for dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for reading <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pair are forced into each other's company and _finally_ clear things up

The next two days were nearly as torturous as the first.

Hawke managed to avoid Anders, but also avoided the Hanged Man – and, by association, the rest of his friends.  

Word had arrived on the second day, however, that he was needed on the Wounded Coast. It was a job that would likely take more than just himself and Beefcake to manage, and having a healer would be a great help.

Trouble was, there was only one healer he knew.

He approached Fenris first, knowing the elf would agree to accompany him and hopefully provide some advice on who else they should bring. Perhaps his outlook would fare better and he could get away with not asking Anders at all.

“We need a healer,” Fenris promptly told him.

“Whyyyy,” Hawke groaned, slumping against the wall. “Can’t we just stock up on healing potions? Let’s bring Aveline. She can carry them, she’s strong.”

Fenris rolled his eyes but didn’t contest Hawke’s statement.

“I’d like to not die on one of your excursions,” he said instead. “If you don’t ask him, I will.”

“Yeah, you ask him,” Hawke said with an enthusiastic nod. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

“Go talk to him, Hawke.”

Hawke sighed, looking at Fenris with pleading eyes.

“Can you at least come with me?”

“ _Go, Hawke_.”

“Remember this the next time you hurt yourself dancing in your estate,” Hawke grumbled as he plodded toward the door. Fenris scoffed, even though the tips of his ears had gone pink.

It took all of his strength, but Hawke eventually began the trek to Lowtown. He debated how he wanted to approach the situation once he arrived, going back and forth in his head over just how hard he should lay on the charm.

He was prepared for Anders to be cold…aloof, even. He might not welcome Hawke into his clinic, but surely the man hadn’t intended to scare him off for _good_. Things would be awkward between them for a bit – and Hawke would definitely have to cut out the flirting – but eventually things would get better.

 _But_ , he reasoned, there was always the off-chance that Anders could be playing hard to get. Maybe arriving and charming the pants off of him would have the desired effect? Namely getting his pants off.

 _No_ , he thought glumly, pausing a few yards away from the clinic’s doors. _Anders had made his feelings clear. Better to just get this over with_.

Hawke hadn’t expected the startled look of terror he received from the healer once he walked through the door. Anders looked up from the patient he was working on and nearly gasped out loud at the sight of him, faltering in his movements before quickly collecting himself. Hawke, to his credit, didn’t let it phase him, instead plastering on a smile and brashly walking into the room.

“Did you miss me?” he bellowed, all eyes now definitely on him. Anders turned three shades of red and rather than answering, gestured toward the back of the clinic with his head before turning back to his patient. He resolutely ignored Hawke as he passed, the redness in his face still present.

Hawke couldn’t help the smirk on his face as he made his way to the back. He made the mage flustered, if nothing else. Time would only tell exactly why.

* * *

Anders could feel his face burning, although he wasn’t quite sure if it was from mortification or rage. Justice was certainly in the latter camp, but the _longing_ he felt stirring in his chest made him think he was in the former.

He quickly finished up with the patient in front of him and then made his way to his private space, heart pounding in his chest. Hawke could only be here for one reason. He must have finally decided to explain himself.

The man in question smiled when Anders appeared, and the mage did all he could to return it.

“Hello,” was all he could muster out.

 _DO NOT WASTE NICETIES ON THIS FOOL_ , Justice boomed. Anders ignored him, forcing his smile a little wider.

“Hey,” Hawke replied, with minimal awkwardness. “Just wanted to, uh…see what you were up to.” Never mind, there it was.

“Tending to my patients,” Anders replied, furrowing his brow. “Like I do every day.”

“Good, good,” Hawke nodded, shifting from foot to foot. Was he even listening?

“Why are you here?” Anders asked. A little bluntness at this point couldn’t hurt, even if it seemed to surprise the other man.

“Oh, um…I have this thing.” Hawke rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “At the Wounded Coast. And Fenris said I should ask you.”

Anders raised an eyebrow and stared at the man, who only seemed to grow increasingly more uncomfortable.

 _THIS IS AN ACCEPTABLE REQUEST,_ Justice answered. _IT IS FROM THE SINGING ELF, NOT THIS ONE_.

He sighed, shaking his head. Hawke must have taken it as a negative answer because his eyes grew wide as he frantically started to explain himself.

“I mean, I wanted to go by ourselves, I didn’t want to bother you or anything,” he babbled. “I know how busy you are and, come on, I can take care of myself, right? But Fenris started whining like he always does and said we _had_ to bring you—”

“ _Hawke_ ,” Anders interrupted, no shortage of annoyance now welling in his chest. So, he was _forced_ to come here by Fenris? _That_ was the only reason he appeared?

Regardless, Hawke went quiet, staring at the mage with wide eyes.

“I will go, as a favor to _Fenris_ ,” he replied in a clipped voice. Impatience radiated off of him, and he gathered himself up to his full height before giving the man a glare.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I need to finish up here before I can join you.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, stalking back to the main part of the clinic, leaving a dumbstruck Hawke in his wake.

* * *

The walk to the Wounded Coast was…awkward, to say the least.

Isabela, Fenris, and Varric were seemingly oblivious to the tension between Hawke and Anders, carrying on with pointed jokes and conversation as if the two were playing right along. Hawke could only presume that the others assumed things were okay between them since Anders was voluntarily in his presence.

“You’re so _quiet_ today, Hawke,” Isabela pouted before nodding at Anders. “This one tire you out already?”

Hawke could feel his face turn red and was sure Anders must be the same shade. He could only hope, for his own sake, that he wasn’t also glowing blue.

He shot Isabela a glare, not even bothering to grace her with an answer. Which, naturally, she took as an answer in itself.

“He’s not denying it!” she whooped, sharing a grin with Varric. “It’s about damn time.”

“Can we please not discuss this?” Fenris grumbled, filling Hawke with gratitude. He was about to open his mouth to say as much when another voice behind him spoke up first.

“Thank you, singi— _Fenris_ ,” Anders said with a slight scowl. “Can we please focus?”

“Doesn’t want to share the sordid details,” Varric loudly whispered to Isabela, who cackled in response.

Hawke ventured a glance at Anders, who was resolutely not looking in his direction. His face was a hard mask of determination and annoyance and he could feel his heart sink even lower. He should never have listened to Fenris.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it long before they ran into the group he was sent to dispatch. They were easily outnumbered, and even with the five of them, they were stretched thin and just barely managed to come out on top.

Anders had them rest nearby in a small cavern while he healed what remained of their wounds. As much as he could outside of a clinic, at least. None of them relished the idea of camping out overnight, so they dutifully did as they were told and waited for the healer to finish.

“Don’t get any ideas, you two,” Isabela quipped half-heartedly as Anders moved on to examine Hawke. “You can give me a show once I’m not so exhausted.”

“Please don’t,” Varric and Fenris shot back at the same time. Hawke and Anders could do little more than scowl at them, both too drained to do much else.

Hawke couldn’t even muster up anything to say as Anders checked him over, a pain that had nothing to do with the wound in his side filling his stomach. Anders was _so close_. All he had to do was reach out, brush those stray pieces of hair out of his eyes and ask him if he could try again…

“We should celebrate at the Hanged Man when we get back,” Varric announced, cutting into his thoughts.

Hawke groaned, shaking his head as Isabela whooped in agreement.

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Anders muttered, distracted by the gash on Hawke’s arm.

“Nope, sorry Blondie, it’s all or nothing,” Varric called out.

“I’m not going either,” Hawke replied. “And Fenris hasn’t said--.”

“Fenris is going,” Isabela cut in, shooting the elf a saucy grin. “And you’re both going, too. We’ll drag you there if we have to.”

Anders snorted. “I’d like to see you drag this one. He’s as stubborn as a wild druffalo.”

“As hairy as one, too,” Varric agreed.

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Hawke shot back.

“Boys, boys,” Isabela shouted. “There’s no need to fight over who has the better chest rug. We’ll go back to the Hanged Man, have a few drinks together, and then you can all slink off back home. Deal?”

Hawke opened his mouth to protest but Isabela beat him to the punch, pointing at him.

“ _You_ dragged us here, Hawke. The least you can do is buy us a drink.”

“Fine,” Hawke groaned, letting his head thump against the cave wall. Anders said nothing, face still set in a scowl as he finished up his work.

“You’ll definitely need a drink after this, eh?” Hawke said, giving the mage a faint smile.

“You know I rarely drink,” Anders replied, scowl deepening.

“I know, I just thought—”

“Don’t think, Hawke. It only gets you into trouble.”

“Ouch. Forget I said anything.”

“If only I could,” Anders muttered.

Varric wandered over, looking between the defeated look on Hawke’s face and the glare on Anders’ and let out a sigh.

 “We almost done here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Done,” Anders announced, standing and wiping his hands off on his coat.

“Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

By the time they arrived at the Hanged Man it was already bustling with energy, the evening crowd well-established and had taken up most of the bar. Varric opted to herd them all into his rooms, away from prying eyes and loud noises. Isabela was the only one who put up any kind of argument, but she would likely drift downstairs at some point regardless.

Hawke and Anders definitely seemed worse for the wear, and Varric felt a slight twinge of guilt in forcing the pair to come with them. But, considering Hawke’s display a few nights before and his recent conversation with Anders, Varric wanted the pair to finally hash things out.

And if they needed a little alcohol to help get the ball rolling…well, so be it.

Hawke volunteered to help Fenris grab the drinks before coming up to the room, and while Anders was washing up Varric made sure to arrange the table so that only five chairs were around it.

“Rivaini, take the spot right here, would you?” he asked Isabela, gesturing toward the chair closest to his. “And make sure Broody is next to you.”

Isabela grinned, giving him a wink. “Wouldn’t dream of it any other way.”

Anders returned first, blearily accepting the seat Varric held out for him. Isabela made herself scarce, claiming she needed to check on Fenris to make sure he got her drink order right. Anders said nothing, eyes drooping slightly as he propped his chin in his hand.

“Any luck yet, Blondie?” Varric asked quietly. Anders jolted upright, blinking as he got his bearings.

“With what?”

“With _him_ ,” Varric sighed, rolling his eyes. “Have you talked?”

“Oh,” Anders scoffed, glaring. “No. You should have _seen_ the commotion he made in my clinic earlier. And then he practically told me that Fenris _begged_ him to ask me to come along. It was embarrassing.”

Varric opened his mouth to respond but was cut off upon the arrival of the missing three members of their group. Judging by Hawke’s smile he was already on at least his third drink.

“Sit next to me, sweet thing,” Isabela purred to Fenris, dragging him to the chair next to her. Neither Hawke nor Anders seemed to realize the implication until Hawke was left standing at the foot of the table, staring at the remaining seat.

“Um…” he began, grabbing the back of the chair. “I’m just going to pull this over—”

“Does Anders smell or something?” Isabela frowned. “Why are you moving?”

“We won’t be able to talk to you if you sit down there,” Fenris added.

Hawke could feel his face heat up as he watched Anders turn red. Great. Now he would look like an ass if he moved. He sighed, putting the chair back in its place and taking a seat.

“I was doing it for all of _you_ ,” he lied, pouting. “I’m still all covered in sweat and blood, I’m disgusting.”

“So are the rest of us,” Fenris retorted, giving him a small smirk as he took a sip of his bottle. “You’re not special, Hawke.”

Anders snorted next to him, pointedly not looking in Hawke’s direction as the other man sulked. It was only once Varric cleared his throat that the tension broke.

“I say we have a toast,” he proclaimed, raising his mug. “To friendships. And possibly more.”

Isabela cheered, raising her own glass, although the enthusiasm didn’t seem to be matched by the others. Anders only had a glass of water, which he halfheartedly raised before putting back down. Hawke was oblivious, not even acknowledging the words. Fenris was frowning.

“’And possibly more’?” he said. “What does that even mean? More what?”

“Hush,” Isabela whispered, elbowing him quickly.

“Yes, Varric,” Hawke joined in. “More what? More ale? Because I can definitely get behind that.” He drained his glass in one gulp, wiping his mouth as he stood.

“I’ll be back.”

The group – minus Anders – watched him leave, Isabela sighing once he was out of sight.

“He won’t be back,” Anders said after a minute. He stood, stretching his neck. “And I think I’ve had enough for today.”

“But we just got here,” Isabela protested.

“It’s been long enough.”

“It’s fine, Blondie,” Varric cut in before Isabela could say anything else. “We’ll try another time.”

Anders said nothing as he left, although he could hear Fenris behind him asking “ _try what_?” as he rounded the corner. He sighed, not bothering to look at the commotion at the bar that Hawke was no doubt in the middle of. He just wanted to go home.

* * *

Anders arrived back at his clinic a short while later, his mood greatly lifted as he was greeted by the many cats lingering near his doors. He shooed them inside and set about cleaning up the space and preparing it for the next day since he hadn’t had much time after Hawke’s impromptu visit earlier.

By the time he had returned the rooms to some semblance of order, he heard a loud knock on one of the outside doors. He sighed, debating whether he could hide and pretend he hadn’t arrived home yet. He really just wanted to _sleep_.

“It’s me, Blondie,” Varric’s voice rang through the door. “It’s an emergency.”

 _THE DWARF NEEDS OUR HELP_ , Justice unnecessarily announced.

“I know, I can _hear_ him,” Anders shot back.

 _HE IS KIND TO US,_ Justice continued, unfettered.

“Will you _stop_?” Anders hissed. “I know he’s kind and that’s the only reason I’m even _thinking_ about answering the door.”

He eventually convinced himself that if he didn’t open the doors himself, he’d be seeing Bianca before he saw Varric, and he didn’t think his poor ramshackle rooms would hold up to much violence. 

When he swung open the door he came face to face with the man himself…and, surprisingly, no one else.

“Varric?” he said by way of greeting.

“Sorry to bother you at home, but it’s important,” Varric said, exhaling deeply.

“So you said.”

“Listen…Blondie…” Varric hesitated, trying to get a read on his face. “I wouldn’t ask this if I had another choice. But Hawke’s pretty hurt.”

Anders crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow, giving Varric an _extremely_ unimpressed look.

“No, I mean it, Anders.” Varric sighed, and between his tone and the use of his name, Anders realized this wasn’t a trick.

“How bad is it?”

“Well, he got pretty drunk, as I’m sure you expected. And it seems like…he might have been making his way deeper into Lowtown for some reason.”

“Like maybe toward Darktown?” Anders asked dryly.

“I don’t know.” Varric shook his head. “All I know is that he got into a fight and fell down a few flights of stairs. He banged his head and, from my limited knowledge, looks like he broke a few ribs. He was also complaining about his leg hurting before he passed out.”

“He’s passed out!” Anders cried, rushing to grab some supplies. “You should have told me that first, Varric. He could be dead!”

“Nah, a little old tumble down a staircase or five can’t kill the Champion,” he grinned. “But you’re also the only one I trust to come look at him.

“We’re going to bring him back here, as long as I can determine he’s in good enough shape to move,” Anders said, packing a bag. “So I’ll need others to help us carry him.”

“Got it,” Varric nodded. “As soon as we get there I’ll go grab Fenris and Sebastian.”

Anders shot him a look at the archer’s name and Varric held up his hands in defense.

“Fine, I’ll go get Aveline.”

* * *

When they arrived at the Lowtown Docks they saw Hawke much as Varric had described him. He was lying quietly near the steps, still out cold. Fenris was also there, claiming word had spread quickly and he came to make sure Hawke hadn’t done anything stupid. Or, at least, stupider than usual.

“Why must you be so foolish?” Anders muttered to himself as he knelt down next to Hawke’s prone body. As angry as he had been at the man, a feeling of terror was quickly taking its place. Hawke needed to be okay. He couldn’t bear the alternative.

Hawke moaned quietly as Anders looked him over, checking for any injuries that would prevent him from being moved. Aveline had arrived in the meantime, and between her, Anders, and Fenris, they managed to put together a stretcher and transport Hawke back to the clinic. Varric trailed behind, more for moral support than anything else.

The trio stood around awkwardly once Hawke was safely deposited in the clinic, resting as comfortably as Anders could manage, considering the circumstances. All three looked like they would rather be anywhere else, yet their sense of loyalty ( _and guilt_ , Anders thought) to Hawke kept them there.

“You don’t have to wait around,” Anders sighed in exasperation after a few minutes. Varric was the only one who seemed to hesitate when told. Aveline likely had much more important matters to deal with and Fenris was probably eager to get home and in bed himself.

Anders gave Varric a slight nod, assuring him that he would be alright, and he was finally alone again in his clinic. Well, aside from the unconscious man in front of him.

He grimaced as he looked Hawke over again, trying to take stock of what he would need to heal him.

“What am I going to do with you?” he muttered as he rolled up his sleeves.

“I can think of a few things,” came the groggy reply. Anders jumped slightly, staring down at the man wincing as he opened his eyes.

“Don’t move, Hawke,” he snapped. “I don’t need you falling off my table and injuring yourself more.”

“Maker, why does everything hurt?” Hawke groaned. He reached up to touch his head before Anders swatted his hand away.

“Because you hurt everything,” he replied. “If you sit still I’ll give you a draught for the pain.”

Hawke didn’t reply, only nodded his head, grimacing at the pain even the slightest movement brought.

Anders sighed, returning with a small potion. He gingerly lifted Hawke’s head enough that he could help the man drink without making a mess.

“Thanks,” Hawke said, making a disgusted face. “I think. That’s vile.”

“It’s _helpful_ ,” Anders corrected. “Just relax for a few minutes until it kicks in.”

They sat in silence, Anders keeping an eye on Hawke’s breathing as he waited for the draught to take effect so he could begin working. Hawke had closed his eyes, settling into his spot.

“Hawke?” Anders whispered after a few minutes. He was met only with steady breathing, so he reached over and began to gently unfasten Hawke’s tunic to get a better look at the bruising on his ribs.

“You had your chance to undress me,” Hawke mumbled without opening his eyes. Anders froze.

“What?”

“Was so excited for you to come over that night,” Hawke continued, words slurring together. “Waited so long to ask you…and you didn’t show.”

Anders stared in open-mouthed shock, chest tightening at the words. _What was he talking about?_

“But Hawke…you…”

“Thought you liked me, too,” Hawke continued, mouth turning down slightly at the corners. “Made me look like an ass.”

Anders sighed, running a hand over his face. Varric was right; they needed to have this conversation, but now was definitely not the time. Especially not with the hope rapidly welling inside of him. He needed to be able to concentrate if he wanted to be able to heal the man so that they _could_ have the conversation.

“You do that plenty on your own,” he replied fondly, giving him a small smile. He got no reply, the draught having finally kicked in.

“Now just rest while I fix you up.”

* * *

Hawke awoke a couple hours later, the worst of the damage either healed or patched up as much as possible.

Anders was nearby, quietly sorting through supplies when he heard the first faint stirrings from the cot.

“Mmph,” Hawke grunted, propping himself up on an elbow. “Maker, I feel like I fell off a cliff.”

“A few flights of stairs, actually,” Anders replied, making his way over. “Among other things.”

Hawke blinked at him a few times in confusion before looking around the room.

“And you healed me?”

Anders raised an eyebrow. “Yes? That surprises you?”

“Well, I just thought…” Hawke let the sentence trail off as his face flushed.

Anders awkwardly hovered nearby, unsure of what to do next. Hawke seemed nearly as uncomfortable, fidgeting with his clothes as the silence dragged on.

“So, um…” Hawke cleared his throat without looking in Anders’ direction. “How long was I out for?”

“About three hours,” Anders replied. “You were a little, uh…delirious there for a bit.”

Hawke sighed, closing his eyes. “How bad was I?”

Anders stifled a small laugh. At least the man was self-aware.

“Not too bad,” he replied. “You complained a bit about the draught and…”

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt his face flush. He could just omit this part of their conversation. Pretend like it never happened. But he needed to know what Hawke really thought.

“And…?” Hawke prodded.

“And you mentioned how…upset you were. That night. When we had our…date.”

Hawke paled, mouth opening and closing without a word. Anders bit his lip, wanting to look away but not daring lose track of his patient.

“I should go,” Hawke mumbled, nearly falling off the small cot in his haste.

 _Exactly why I can’t leave him alone_ , Anders sighed to himself.

“Hawke, wait,” Anders called, making his way over. “I think…I think we should talk about it. I think there were some misunderstandings. But I’d rather not do it here.”

“The Hanged Man?”

“No.” Anders’ nose scrunched up in distaste.

Hawke grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “The Blooming Rose?”

“ _No._ ”

“Fine,” he exhaled loudly. “Come to my estate? Just give me a few hours head start, I’m a little slow right now.”

“How about I _walk_ you back to your estate so you don’t die along the way, and then we can talk once we get there?”

Hawke smiled sheepishly and nodded his head.

“Okay, let’s head out.”

* * *

The walk to the estate was quiet, Anders focusing mostly on keeping Hawke on his feet and moving at a reasonable pace. Which was more difficult than it sounded, considering Hawke was as easily amused as a child on the best of days. Why the man was so obsessed with rooting through every empty box he saw, Anders would never know.

Hawke calmed down the closer they got to his home, both slightly tense over the impending conversation.

“The door’s open,” Hawke muttered once they were within eyesight. “We can go sit in front of the fire and talk. Are you hungry?”

Anders made a noncommittal noise as they approached the door, trying to stem the flood of memories from the last time he was here. He helped Hawke to the door, leaning him against the wall for a moment as he grabbed the handle and pulled…only for nothing to happen.

“What the hell?” Hawke frowned, staring. “Pull harder.”

“I _did_ pull hard,” Anders shot back with a glare. “It’s locked.”

“It can’t be,” Hawke replied, pushing himself off the wall. He swatted Anders’ hand out of the way. “I never lock the door.”

Despite his claim to the contrary, the door remained locked tight. Anders raised an eyebrow, staring at Hawke with a mixture of anxiety and smug satisfaction. At least now once he explained his side of the story to the other man he could see that he was telling the truth.

“Maybe Bodahn went out…” Hawke muttered. “This is ridiculous.”

Before Anders could stop him, Hawke began banging loudly on the door, yelling out for Bodahn.

“Hawke, _stop_ ,” Anders hissed, grabbing an arm. Even in his wounded state, the man was still incredibly strong. “You’re going to hurt yourself all over again. Don’t you have a key?”

“I don’t carry it with me,” Hawke replied, shrugging sheepishly. “I told you, I never lock the door.”

Anders sighed, shaking his head. “You are a mess.”

Before Hawke could open his mouth to respond, the door flew open, Leandra Hawke standing on the other side, glaring at her son.

“Garrett Malcolm Hawke, _must_ you make so much noise?” she snapped, stepping aside so the pair could enter.

“I wouldn’t have had to if the bloody door wasn’t locked,” Hawke shot back.

“It’s three o’clock in the morning, the door _should_ be locked.”

Hawke rolled his eyes and limped into the room, giving Beefcake a quick scratch behind the ears as he passed. Anders shot Leandra an apologetic look as he followed.

“Take a seat,” Hawke said to Anders, nodding at a nearby chair. “I’ll grab us something to drink.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Leandra announced. “Be sure to lock the door before you do the same.”

“ _No one_ is going to break into the Champion’s house, mother,” Hawke retorted. “I never bother.”

“No, that’s why I make sure I do so when I’m home alone,” Leandra said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “When _the Champion_ isn’t here to protect me.”

“But it’s never—“

“Actually, Hawke…” Anders cut in. He cleared his throat, looking at his hands nervously. “The night I came by, the door was locked. That’s why I didn’t come in.”

“ _What?_ ”

Leandra sighed, shaking her head. “I’m going to excuse myself now.”

The pair watched her ascend the stairs before Hawke looked back at Anders incredulously. Anders gave him a small smile and shrugged.

“I came by and tried to open the door,” he began. “It was locked. I waited and tried again, and it was still locked. I figured you must have changed your mind and I was so embarrassed I just went home.”

He looked down at his hands as they played absentmindedly with one of the clasps on his coat. He could feel his face burning, waiting for Hawke’s reaction.

“I…I thought…” Hawke stuttered. His expression went from thoroughly confused to mortified within seconds.

“I thought _you_ changed your mind!” he finally exclaimed. “Maker, I thought I had misread the entire thing and you just blew me off. _I_ was too embarrassed to say anything to _you_.”

Anders chuckled, running a hand down his face.

“I supposed we’re a couple of stubborn fools, then,” he murmured.

Hawke’s face froze in determination as he walked over to Anders’ seat, awkwardly maneuvering a chair next to him.

“Hawke, don’t…” Anders began, trying to stop him from exerting himself.

“Anders, I want to be clear,” Hawke said as he leaned closer. “I _like_ you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I was hoping to tell you that night and see if we could become… _more_ than friends, but I never got the chance. I wanted to know if you felt the same.”

“I do,” Anders blurted out. “But—“

Hawke held his hand up, cutting the other man off.

“I’m not asking you to say anything now, I just needed to get it off my chest.”

He flushed slightly, looking down at the floor.

“And if you decide you don’t feel the same, we can pretend this never happened.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Anders watched the warring emotions play out across Hawke’s face as he tried not to stare expectantly at the other man. Anders bit his lip, debating if he wanted to draw this out any longer, but ultimately deciding against it.

“Hawke, I think it’s safe to say I feel the same way.”

“Really?” Hawke’s head shot up with a hopeful grin.

“Really,” Anders laughed. “And I hope that in the future we can just _talk_ to each other so things don’t get this bad again.”

“Oh, you won’t be able to shut me up, now.” Hawke grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Anders groaned, smiling as he rested his head in his hand.

“Maker, help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who stuck around to read to the end, as long as it took me to get it up :) I went on a voluntary hiatus after some obnoxious comments that basically demanded I write faster. SPOILER ALERT: that has the opposite effect lol. But anyway, this has been done for a loooong time and I finally felt okay enough to edit it this weekend, so here we are. I hope you enjoyed and keep an eye out, I _have_ been writing in the meanwhile, so I have a lot of stuff on the way!


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